Snack food
by jellyunbrella
Summary: John tries a different approach to try and get Sherlock to eat during a case, filling the kitchen with snack food. But will this plan fair any better than his last ones?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was on a case. As per usual he had stopped eating.

John sighed. Recently when this happened he had tried yet again to make Sherlock eat something, anything.

Sherlock's latest remarks of "inconvenient" and "takes too long" to some of the food suggestions John had made had given John an idea.

He pulled on his coat and shoes and headed out of the flat. There was no need to tell Sherlock he was leaving, as his flat mate probably wouldn't be paying him any attention, but also because this was Sherlock. He knew exactly who was where in 221B and also could tell where Mrs Hudson was downstairs, just by, well just by being Sherlock, John had never really bothered to question that one.

Once John was out of the flat he took a left in search of the nearest supermarket that was likely to be open at 2am. He was on a mission. A mission that some would call dangerous, insane and a down right waste of time. A mission to feed Sherlock Homes.

The plan?

Snack food.

After filling two baskets with a variety of crisps, cereal bars, biscuits and several types of fruit. John bagged and paid for them whilst trying not to make eye contact with the cashier, in the hopes that he wouldn't have to explain his early morning haul.

* * *

Once home he dumped all the bags in the kitchen before quickly checking on Sherlock, who seemed to still be in his mind palace on the sofa, "exactly where I left him" smiled John.

Wondering back into the kitchen, he filled the kettle and began to unload the snacks while it boiled.

He had a bit of a hard time fitting all the food into cupboards. In the end he settled for clearing a space on the kitchen table to display a selection of the food. "This way" he thought "he might actually nibble at it if and when he has to use the bathroom". The infrequence of Sherlock's bathroom use also worried the doctor, but he quickly shook his head to get rid of the thought, "one Sherlock issue at a time".

The kettle clicked to indicate it was done boiling, and John set about making two cups of tea. Surprised at the face he could actually find two clean cups as quickly as he did.

Whilst the tea was brewing, both flatmates like their tea strong, John set about finding a clean plate to put a choice selection of the newly acquired food on. Making sure to pick what he thought were Sherlock's absolute favourite dunking biscuits and putting them in pride of place in the centre of the plate.

Of course John was never sure what Sherlock did enjoy eating, as oppose to what Sherlock ate on a regular bases. He had once caught his friend mixing half a jar of chocolate spread in with the left over peanut butter. The man had claimed it was for a case, but John had spotted him eating it out of the jar with a tablespoon the next day.

All though the medical side of John had cringed at this choice of food, it was also one of the few times he could recall Sherlock going out of his way to make himself something to eat. And then also eating it.

Once the plate of snacks was complete John took the teabag out of both cups and added milk before braving the living room, not sure how Sherlock was going to react.

* * *

After two hours Sherlock's tea was cold, John's was finished and nothing on the plate had been touched.

John, as always in this sort of situation, made a big fuss of getting out of his chair. Yawned loudly and stretched, before gathering up Sherlock's and his own cup and heading via the kitchen to bed.

He made sure to leave the plate right next to Sherlock as he lay on the sofa. He considered putting it on his chest, right under his nose. But that was maybe going a little too far. He settled for dramatically taking a biscuit instead.

* * *

The next morning came and John was pleased to see that Sherlock had removed himself from the sofa, he must have had some kind of breakthrough.

He let out a sigh of relief and made his way into the kitchen for some breakfast. Sometimes it took days to get he off the sofa, at least this time it was only hours.

The first thing that John noticed about the kitchen was the mess.

Not the usual kind of mess, of chemistry equipment and decaying parts of bodies. But wrappers. Food wrappers. Everywhere.

And in the middle of all the mess?

Sherlock.

Sitting crossed legged on the floor. In his mind palace. And was that chocolate round his mouth?

John didn't know what to do.

He wanted to scream and shout and yell at Sherlock to get off his arse and clean up the kitchen.

But he was in his mind palace and wouldn't so much as flinch. Instead he just stood there. Clenching and unclenching his fists. Breathing slowly. Trying to calm himself before cleaning up all the empty wrappers.

And that's when he realised. Empty wrappers. He had done it. He had managed to fed Sherlock Homes. During a night in his mind palace.

All of John's anger fell away as he tripped over the rubbish and hugged his friend. Only to be pushed sharply to the floor as Sherlock's instances kicked in, before emerging from his mind palace.

"What are you doing John? I could have killed you!" Sherlock demanded, more annoyed than concerned. But John didn't care, the smile already on his face just became wider as he began to giggle.

"You ate." He said by way of explanation, before confusing his friend by hugging him again.

* * *

 **Author's** **Note: I don't own Sherlock**

 **There will be a second chapter, (once I've finished writing it!) in which it is John's turn to collect some data.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Right" said John as he sank into his seat opposite his flat mate. "Which one was your favourite?"

Even though Sherlock didn't move a muscle, John could tell he had disturbed his thoughts. Though because he was no longer in his mind palace, as the case was closed, John felt he had every right to now ask the questions he'd been dying to ask for days.

"The food" John pressed on, "what would you like me to buy again, and what should I not bother with?"

This time Sherlock let out a barely audible sigh of frustration as he decided whether or not to answer John's questions. "You'll only go a buy the wrong sort anyway, so what is the point in wasting time by discussing it?" He muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if even thinking about discussing it hurt.

John tried to hide the smile beginning to form on his lips. He was ready for this.

He calmly pulled out a notebook and pen, and threw a KitKat at his friend. Then, trying to keep his voice level he said, "It's for a case."

Sherlock looked down at his lap. At the chocolate bar that had fallen there. Maybe this wouldn't be all that bad if John was going to fed him. He tried to look as annoyed as possible as he picked up the snack.

Across from him, John licked the top of his pen and raised an eyebrow as if contemplating where the best place was to start.

"Chocolate or plain?" John began, studying Sherlock's face for an answer, but Sherlock ignored him, too busy unwrapping his KitKat.

"Sherlock" John scolded. "That'll be the only treat you get if you don't answer my questions."

At this Sherlock raised his eyes to John's, they were round and so full of hurt that John almost felt guilty.

"Chocolate or plain?" He repeated. He was not going to be put off by those puppy dog eyes.

Sherlock fumbled with the wrapper "chocolate" he muttered as he took a bite out of the biscuit.

John's pen froze halfway to the notebook, his jaw open in horror.

Sherlock went to take another bite, when it was snatched away. He looked up to see John's face, very close to his own, positively bursting of disbelief.

Sherlock smiled, that look on John's face always made him smile. He usually got rewarded with that face when he had done something brilliant, but he hadn't done anything that brilliant today, had he?

He quickly skimmed back over the past 12 hours, better make it 24, John has told him on countless occasions that he sometimes zones out for a bit. But he can't find anything John should be this impressed with.

John sits down, not in his chair, but right there on the floor by Sherlock's feet, staring at the KitKat in his hand.

Ok, Sherlock thinks, he's staring at a biscuit, that's strange behaviour, even for him. "John?" He ventures.

John doesn't look up, just shakes his head slowly and utters "You monster".

Sherlock is taken aback, he had been called many things in the past, the worst insults came from his brother, but John. John had never really insulted him; not really, there had always been an edge of respect to any crude words that came his way.

But this was different. This was sincere. And what made it worse is that Sherlock had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

John stood up slowly. Unwrapped the KitKat fully and held it right in front of Sherlock's face, and broke it in two.

They both stayed there, in silence, looking at the chocolate covered biscuit, a finger in each of John's hands.

After a couple of minutes Sherlock's stomach growled as he pinched one of the half's and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

In seconds both men were in fits of laughter, as Sherlock almost chocked in his haste to eat.

* * *

Once John had found his way back into his chair, and the laughter had dissipated into short fits of giggles, Sherlock's look turned clinical.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Huh?" John grunted as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"You…you called me a…monster" Sherlock inquired, finding it hard to keep his feelings out of his voice.

"Oh that" John giggled as he waved the half eaten finger of KitKat that was still in his hand. "That's not how you eat a KitKat"

"How so?"

"Have a break. Have a KitKat" John quoted, but that just made Sherlock confused. "How have you not heard of that?"

"Some kind of slogan I presume, just another way for large cooperations to brain wash the public. You do know it tastes the same however you eat it, and my way is less messy."

John sighed, "But that's not the point. The whole point of a KitKat is the mouth-watering sound as you snap it. And the joy of stripping it of chocolate, before you finish off the wafer!" John's mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"Oh just eat it already." Sherlock huffed, bored now.

John hid his grin by devouring the last of the biscuit. "You still need to answer my questions."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to hide his grin, "Turn the page" he said as he motioned to John's notebook which had been abandoned on the floor.

John scooped it up and turned to the second page where he had written a list of all the food he had bought at the start of this experiment, and sure enough next to each item in Sherlock's neat hand writing was three sets of scores out of ten, one each for flavour, texture and ease of eating.

"When did..." John cut himself off, he didn't need to sit through an explanation of how Sherlock can read his mind. He had what he wanted and that's all that really mattered. John checked his watch "right" he sighed as he lifted himself out of his seat, "If I get a move on I can catch the start of the game".

He slipped into his coat and shoes, looking over his shoulder to see Sherlock already typing away on his laptop.

John hurried off down the stairs and out into the street. As soon as he had closed the door his phone went off, and he smiled to himself as he read the text.

COME BACK VIA TESCOS

SH

* * *

 **Author's** **Note: I don't own Sherlock**

 **Hope you enjoyed. This story came to me when I was eating a KitKat whilst watching Sherlock, and just had John yelling at me, I eat them the way Sherlock does in this (I know, I'm a monster!)**


End file.
